


The Slow Disintegration of Giving A Damn

by rocket__launch



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocket__launch/pseuds/rocket__launch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At this point she doesn't care if they were royally screwing up. They already crossed the blurred personal-professional boundary, so why not go further?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Slow Disintegration of Giving A Damn

A satisfied moan emitted from her mouth as she threw her head back against the stone wall. She knew she should keep quiet seeing that they were shoved up against a wall in a government building on PsomethingX-somethingsomethingsomething. But she couldn’t stay silence or have the effort to remember the name of this planet when her commanding officer’s hands were up her shirt and kneading her breasts and his lips currently sucking and nipping at her neck.

“Quiet, Carter,” he whispered as his lips then journeyed to her ear, leaving a trail of hot breath against her skin. “You wouldn’t want us to get caught.”

Her lips captured his, interrupting his speech. God, this was one of the few times where she _didn’t_ want to talk or use her scientific reasoning. One of her hands threaded through the dark grey strands of his hair while her other hand slid down his stomach and into his pants gripping the throbbing hard-on from underneath

She smiled as he gasped and groaned into her mouth, his hips shamelessly thrusting in reply.

“Sir?” she asked against her mouth, also grinding against him. “Is this even a good place?”

She didn’t even bother asking ‘Is this even a good _idea?’_ because it wasn’t a good idea the first time they did it on P3X-587. Or when they did it on P4X-870. Or on P2X-445. Or in the supply closet of the base. Or in her own _lab,_ for crying out loud _._ They stopped caring after a while. They saved the world countless of times. They deserved this, goddamn it. They already crossed the blurred personal-professional boundary long before their series of frantic lovemaking, so why not go further?

His vocabulary was cut down to inarticulate grunts as she massaged his arousal. She loved it, and he knew. If she kept going, it would be all over in a matter of minutes.  Leaving her question unanswered, grabbed her wrist and slipped it out of his pants without hissing at the lack of contact.

“Carter,” he said, his forehead leaning against hers. Their breathing was quick and ragged and sweat was dribbling down their foreheads. It was, after all, quite a humid planet. He then continued his frenzied kissing against her neck. “I’m going to brutally fuck you against this wall and you’re calling me ‘sir’?”

This happened every time. He acknowledged his superiority as her CO and he knew she didn’t care. Power play was such a turn on for her.

“We’re a royally fucked up pair,” she said as he was busy unbuckling the belt of her BDUs and pulling those annoying clothes down her legs and out of the way.

“Fucked up,” he mumbled, still claiming her neck as his. She moaned again as his fingers trailed up the bare skin of her thighs and teasing her opening. “Screwed.” Kiss. “Messed up.” Kiss. “To act carelessly,” Kiss. “Foolishly,” Kiss. “Or incorrectly.”

“Foolishly,” she hissed, digging her nails into his biceps when he inserted two fingers in her wet folds. She tilted her head, giving him more access to her neck while she took her turn in undoing his pants. “Incorrectly, I beg to differ… oh…!”

She made a very un-Carter-like squeal when his fingers attacked her sensitive clit. She felt him smile against her skin and she groaned.

Cocky bastard.

He continued with his ministrations, stroking and pinching, and her gasping for breath and making unintelligible moans. And of course, right when she was about to reach her highest peak, his hands left her center.

“Sir,” she said, her voice dark, almost in a seductive growl that almost made his hard-on throb. God, he loved the power play.

Her hand mindlessly trailed down south, needing that release _now._ She was about to reach down and relieve herself on her own, but he wouldn’t let her. She knew he was going to deny her the freedom of self-relief, but god she couldn’t help herself.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” he said, swatting her hand away. Instead, she grabbed his arousal and helped guided it to her opening. One of his hands met hers as she rubbed the head against her slick folds. They both moaned, the sounds becoming louder as he sank into her.

“Oh, god,” she moaned against his mouth, her nails leaving streaks of red down his bare chest as a wave of pleasure washed over the two. He was big, but he fit her so perfectly. Suddenly, who cares if this is even a good place to have mind-blowing sex? The whole planet could be in flames and she wouldn’t even give a damn.

Slowly but surely, he started thrusting against her. Trapping her in place, he took both of her wrists and pinned it up against the wall and over her head taking her completely. She let out another mewl of satisfaction as he thrust faster, shoving her further up the wall and almost slamming against her. God, she loved when he did that, taking her in completely.

Their breathing was becoming labored, and the voices from their moans intertwined together. His hips jerked erratically, and he was nearing release. Not losing the grip he had on both of her wrists, he slid a hand between their sweating bodies and rubbed her throbbing clit.

“Oh, god,” she whimpered once again, her cry loud enough to echo the room. She couldn’t take it, her sensors were on overload as she felt all that she could feel: the way he was slamming into her and playing with her clit, his ragged breathing and moaning, the feel of the ragged stone of the wall he was shoving her up against, and the smell of sex lingering in the warm, humid air.“Jack!”

It was often that their first names came up during frenzied coupling. It was normal, and it wasn’t like it made any difference in creating distance between them or making things more intimate.

They both cried out in pleasure as their bodies exploded. Her muscles contracted around him, and that was his breaking point. He gave one last, erratic thrust before releasing all of what he had in her.

Floating down from their high, they rocked against each other, his forehead leaning against hers, not finished until they stood completely still. They were panting as if they ran a whole marathon. And from the looks of it, they _felt_ like they ran a whole marathon, seeing that both pairs of legs were trembling like jello.

When he finally released her wrists her hands snaked them up to his chest with one hand playing with the strands of his hair and the other resting on his back. His hands rested on her hips and his head was buried in the crook of her neck.

“Sir,” she whispered, unsure of what to say next.

“Let’s get dressed,” he replied, his eyes meeting hers. “They might be looking for us right now.”

She didn’t have to feel hurt from the fact that he might regret this by having them get dressed quickly. She knew it wasn’t just a fuck to get them by.  It was something more than that, something they couldn’t comprehend but couldn’t get the time to decipher. However, one thing is for sure, they knew they were treading in dangerous waters, and they had to play safe. They both knew that they could have avoided the water in the first place by not starting this crazy turn of events, but what’s done was done. They fucked and fucked up, but neither could care less.  They were masters at hiding secrets and pretending to give off a strictly professional air in the presence of other people.

 “Shall we?” he then asked with a smug grin, motioning to the door. They were now fully clothed and ready to head out.

She smiled and bit her lip, stepping out into the hallways, not missing the chance to brush her shoulder against his.

And from that small exchange, they knew it was going to happen againwithout regret, and it was going to happen again, and again, and again despite the many rules they were breaking and its consequences.

They both ceased to care. After all, they _were_ one royally fucked up pair. 


End file.
